


Something New

by IMAgentMI, PFLAgentYork (Legendaerie)



Series: Post-PFL RP AU [5]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Pegging, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/pseuds/PFLAgentYork
Summary: With a game plan in mind, York and Carolina head into town to pick up some supplies. Eventually.There's no need to rush, anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i promise. i promise all those tags are gonna be used. its just a long fic.

It’s still dark outside when Carolina opens her eyes, but one of the planet’s moons is shining directly through the window onto her pillow and it’s bright enough to wake her thoroughly. She glances over at York next to her, but the shadow he is lying in is even darker in contrast against the blinding moonlight. She can hear his breathing though, the slow full inhalations of deep sleep. Even though he is lying close, for once he doesn’t have at least one arm around her, and she carefully maneuvers away from him, and off the bed. The nights are starting to get cold, so she snags her robe out of the bathroom, ties it around her as she heads for the living room.  

There’s an old fashioned lamp next to the couch that has a warm yellow light when she turns it on.  She doesn’t want to fall asleep out here, not away from York, so she picks up her book and takes a seat in the center of the couch, drawing an afghan over her legs. She sits back in her little warm bubble in the tiny cold house, and settles in to read.

Several minutes pass, and she absorbs herself in her novel; but not even the best stories can get her to lose her soldier’s intuition, and she hears the shuffling of feet from down the hallway.

York peers around the corner, blankets draped over his shoulders like some weary crownless king. He blinks, taking her in on the couch, then continues his slow approach. He shambles up to her, kneels on the couch beside her, then nearly belly-flops across her lap so his ribcage is resting on her thighs. A little bit of shifting, then he pillows his head in his arms and relaxes on top of her like a massive, graceless pet.

Later it will strike her, the amazing things that she has learned to take in stride. But in this moment, she simply holds her book out out of the way as he falls, and as soon as he has settled, props it open over his back with one hand, and with the other winds her fingers through his hair, moving ceaselessly in little swirls and designs, slowing only as she attempts to turn a page one handed.  Her fingers follow the edge of his hairline, the whorl of his hair.  She pets him, scratches him, enjoys the softness under her fingertips that takes up just as much of her attention as her reading does.  It is a strange sweetness that she never expected to find in her life, and she relishes it. She relishes him.

Carolina turns her attention away from her book and back down to York.  He looks as deeply asleep as he had next to her in bed, bonelessly relaxed, and she realizes that short of shoving him off her, there’s no way that she could possibly escape him now.  Maybe that’s what he intended - if she wouldn’t stay with him in bed, he would ensure she stayed with him wherever she ended up.  

Regardless, she’s content to sit here, dragging her fingertips down from his hair and along his neck, making the same swirls and patterns that she had over his head.  She lets her fingers move whisper-light over the side of his neck, and holds her breath, waiting to see if there is any response, if she has found a yet-unknown ticklish spot, but she waits in vain.  Disappointed, she moves on.

She abandons her book completely, reaching carefully over him to drop it on the floor, catching it with the edge of her toe to soften the bump. York is too tempting to keep hands off for long and now that she has both free, she gets to work.  

She doesn’t want to pull the blanket too much further down off his shoulders, but she manages for just another inch or two, just to give herself enough skin to work with.  She runs two knuckles gently down the sides of his neck, down his shoulders in slow smooth strokes, then widens the point of contact with her fingers. She keeps the pressure light, more to comfort rather than to work out any knots.  She uses her hands to cup the back of his head, thumbs in a straight line pointing up through his hair, and gently drags both hands down, splaying them out over his shoulders and down as far as she can reach, before moving her hands back up to do it again, gliding over his skin so as not to lose contact. 

She keeps her movements simple, long strokes, careful to avoid pressure points, but not avoiding erogenous zones.  She even goes so far as to rub his ear lobes gently between her fingers of each hand, just to engage the pleasure center of nerves there.  She keeps it brief and moves back over him, again and again with her hands.  It’s soothing for her, to touch him like this, to have him close and trusting and warm, to have a chance just to focus on him without asking anything in return. Without him feeling he has to offer anything in return. She keeps going as long as she can before a small cramp starts to form in the web of her left hand.  She slows, lifting her hands off him at the same time, and pulls the blankets up over his bare shoulders.  Her book is now on the floor, so she leans back into the cushions and closes her eyes.

York makes a little two-note sound; a sleep-slurred thank-you.

Eyes still closed, Carolina smiles.  She takes a deep breath and allows herself to relax, enjoying the weight of York across her legs.  Her breathing slows until it matches his own, and together they wait for the sun.

 

* * *

 

This time, York is the one who wakes up first; his neck is killing him from the way he’s held it all night, and his knees ache from being bent to fit on the couch. God, he’s getting old, isn’t he? It’s a bittersweet revelation, to feel his first step down the incline of his own health, and to be overwhelmingly grateful that he made it this far at all.

Moving his torso as little as possible, York tries to stretch his limbs and neck in silence; holding his breath around the little grunts and hisses as he tries to bully his body into obedience.

Carolina takes a long deep breath, and lets it out as a sigh.  She opens an eye to look at him before resting her head back again, then groans.  “I can’t feel my legs.”  She wiggles her hips side to side to shush him off.  “C’mon. Up. Before you have to carry me everywhere the rest of the day.”

To be dramatic, he rolls off her knees to land on his side on the floor. “Fuck,” he wheezes, rolling again to move off her feet though his shoulder took the weight of the fall, “fuck that was a horrible idea. Lina. Lina, why did I do that?”

“Because you’re still not fully awake and even more impulsive than you usually are.”  Carolina scrubs her hand down both her legs, trying to re-awaken the nerves there. “This feels so weird.”

“I  _ envy  _ weird.”

“What did you hurt?  And how much am I allowed to yell at you?”  Carolina would love to nudge him with her foot, but nothing is working.

He switches gears once he realizes he’s not going to get any pity. “I’m not injured. Just sore.” He rolls a couple more times until he’s on his back and sits up with a wince, reaching for his toes. “Next time, just read in bed if you want. I like having you close by.”

The end comes out soft, tender. When he’d woken up without her he’d been struck by paranoia that something had happened - she was hurt, she was sick, she was mad at him - and a whispered conversation with Delta had led him to her. And once he’d seen her, and the little quizzical smile she offered him, the relief that everything was right once more had hit him like it does now, like pulling off his helmet and taking in a deep breath of fresh air.

“You’re stuck with me foreeeeever,” he adds in a playful taunt as he leans forward, vertebrae in his back creaking as he rests his cheek on his knees. 

“Mmm.” Carolina reaches out to try and drawn him in, brush his fingers along his cheek to coax him to her.  She tries to lean down to kiss him, but he’s too far away and she has to resort to kissing her fingertips and pressing them to his lips instead.

“So… any plans today?”  She leans back into the cushion again, but tilts her head to the side so she can see him.

“Go back to bed. With you, this time.” He can’t hide the wince as he moves his right arm out of the stretch, but gets to his feet easy enough and crawls into her lap. One knee between her thighs, on the very edge of the couch, strong hands massaging circulation into her legs. “Do some  _ yoga _ ,” and the way he says it with a grin, leaning in just enough to brush his lips against hers, makes his intentions extremely clear.

“That sounds lovely.” Carolina brushes her lips against his as well, then takes his bottom lip in hers, half nip, half kiss.  “Plus, if we go do the errands that I would like to get done today, then maybe all the extra relaxation and flexibility will help you later.”  She leans in for a proper kiss, her hands reaching behind his neck to pull him in.

“What errands?” York purrs, still kneading at her thighs and starting to get a little too hot under the collar. He’d intended on just doing her a favor with this, maybe some light teasing, but just feeling the soft strength of Carolina’s legs, the heat on the insides of her thighs, is giving him some very, very convincing ideas. 

“Well,” she starts, leaning in towards him and placing her hand over his as it glides over her leg.  “There were a few things we needed to pick up. Some groceries. Condoms. I mean, if you’re still interested.” She places her other hand atop his, and places enough pressure to push her legs just a tiny bit further apart. “Aaaand, I believe we discussed looking for a certain kind of toy.  Something you’d wanted to try together.  Hmmm.. can’t remember what it was though.”

Carolina watches the changes sweep over York's face with a dark delight. The way his lips part, the way he goes pale for only half a second before his face flushes and his breathing becomes fast and ragged.  His eyes travel up and down her as though she is already naked and ready for him, and when she tightens her hands over his to force her legs apart even more, she savours the low moan that makes his eyes flutter closed. 

“You okay, York? Do you need a moment?  Only I'm starting to get really wet here and want to know if I should just use my own fingers or if you have a better idea.”

The idea of picking her up and carrying her to their bed does cross his mind, but by the time it does he’s already pushed her around and onto her back stretched out on the couch, is already kissing her hard into the still-warm cushions and shoving one hand down the front of her pants to press his palm against her mound and trail his fingers along her slit. She was telling the truth, and the way she gasps as he goes a little deeper to breach her only makes him want her more.

Carolina feels her face flush, the sensation of herself slick under York’s touch setting a fire in her skin.  One hand pulls him tighter against her mouth, the other resting over top of his.  She can’t guide him through her clothes, not the way that she wants, so she pushes him away just enough to get both her hands under the elastic of her pajama bottoms. She pulls them down with her panties, freeing herself for him before pulling him down, guiding him back inside her with a hungry groan against his mouth.

This time, he’s eased in two fingers, all the way to the knuckle, and York’s breathing stutters in contrast to the fluid, gentle movement of his hand. “Better get handcuffs, too,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to duck down and start nipping and kissing along her neck instead. “Can't keep my hands off you without ‘em. And you love me helpless under you, yeah?”

“Fucking hell, York…” Carolina whispers, arching her back as he glides in and out of her. “How can you make so raging horny this early in the morning?”  She thrusts at his fingers, trying to take him harder, deeper, and when he doesn’t match her pace, she digs her nails into his back in frustration.  

He’s too busy pulling back to drink in the way she writhes under him to reply. When he does, his tongue feels thick and clumsy in his mouth. “You-- started it,” and he holds himself over her with one hand, stilling his movements to watch her fuck herself with his fingers. The moan he makes feels as though it was torn out of him, leaving him weak and trembling with want.

“You’re--” Carolina hisses through clenched teeth, “-the one who wanted to do yoga.”  She seizes a handful of his hair, carefully pulling his head back. “God I’d love to see what positions I can put you in.  I can think of a few that involve you face down on the bed. Tonight, I’m going to make you howl like that. And no pillows to muffle you.  I want to hear every breath, every sound. Maybe one of these days I’ll make you sing for me while I fuck you, just so you can show me how happy you are, how much you like it.”

York keens under her touch, eyelids fluttering as the arm holding him up starts to buckle. His entire body wants her, wants to be as close to her as possible just like it did last night, and all the branching possibilities for how they could fuck leave him paralyzed. His fingers are still working against her, gentle inside her and hyper aware of how her body keeps clenching around him as though trying to pull him in deeper.

“I'll be as loud as you want,” he promises her. “Take me, break me, ride me, plow me, anything you want is what I want and fuck, I want it so bad.” York slips his fingers out of her, uses them to spread her outer lips wide and tease them. “I want you. I always do.”

“York I swear to god, if you don’t get down on the floor and fuck me properly, I might start to rip your hair out.”  Her hand is clenched tightly, his locks peeking between her fingers, and it isn’t a threat but a simple statement of fact.  She is shaking with need, aggressive with it. She wishes for the hundredth time that they had a sparring mat, just so she could slam him down onto it, just so she can act out all those fantasies of fucking him while they spar, fucking him into submission.  Though, she has to admit, that wouldn’t take long.

He swallows, hard, shaking under her touch already; paralyzed by her grip on him and his own dizzying desire. “Uh--”

With a growl of frustration, she pushes him off her, remembering at the last second to let go of his hair before she rips out an entire handful.  She hears him hit the ground, but is too focused on trying to sit up to pay too much attention.  Her legs are regaining feeling, but are all pins and needles.  Carolina slides down to the floor, clumsily crawling over to him just as he flips onto his back.  Throwing one leg over to straddle him, she braces her hands on each side of his neck as she leans down, fiery-eyed to kiss him.  She nips his lip hard, using a canine in an attempt to draw blood.  She pulls back at his strangled gasp in order to check, but at the first bead of red, lowers herself back down to take his lip in hers and suck.  She keeps at it for a couple seconds before sitting straight, holding on until his lip is finally pulled away out of hers.  “Should we try this again?  Properly this time?”

“Ffffuck,” he chokes, shoving a hand between them to grab himself through his pajama pants, palming the little spot of damp and breathing hard. “Anything, everything, just-- let me feel you,” and his tongue worries the spot she’d bitten, holding her gaze with his own heavy-lidded one.

Without a word she rolls away from him, yanking at his pants with one hand until he gets the hint and takes them off, kicking them off his ankles.  She gets a hand around his cock, leaning in to kiss him hungrily as she strokes him.  She’d love to lavish him with attention, but her body is demanding more.  Carolina straddles him again, careful not to knee him in the junk with her still-tingling leg.  His cock held up in her hand, she gets centered, lowering herself onto him, breathing hard as he slides in.  She shifts slightly, getting comfortable, then leans over him.  One hand goes on his shoulder, the other seizes his own, placing it on her breast, over her shirt.  She locks eyes with him and starts to move.

York lives and dies at once, right there on their living room floor, to watch her face as she guides him in. He’s never going to get tired of this, of those first tender moments when they first fall into place with each other, how it makes her lips part and her eyes widen and flash like sunlight on the ocean. And as she moves over and around him in waves, York feels like she could drown him, love and lust alike washing over him and flooding his body until he is shaking apart under her, pressing his palm against her breast to feel her breath catch and her heart beat.

“Yes,” he breathes, “god, yes, like this-- love this, love you,” and the words are jolting out of him with the impact of her body riding him against the hard floor, “fuck,  _ fuck _ you’re-- so good-- yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs for her hips and guides her movements on him, feels the flex of her thighs and the swell of her ass and thinks about coming in her, putting a baby in her and has to close his eyes to block it out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, tilting his head back and letting his voice raise, every breath a gasp until he’s almost loud enough to drown the obscene slap of skin on skin.

“This what you love, York?”  Her voice is dark and rough and heavy with promise.  “You’re going to have a good day today.  This is just the warm up. But we have a lot to do before I can really set your world on fire, so I want you to come for me.  I’m going to wring it out of you so you can relax and enjoy your day without spending all of it thinking about how you want to push me up against a wall and fuck me, in front of god who knows how many people.  Because I’m going to be tempted enough as it is, and one of us has to have enough sense to stop.  So come for me, York. Tell me when you’re ready, because I want to spray you across your chest. I want to share it with you off of my fingers.” She leans down to suck a new hickey against his throat.  

York wails underneath her; the hard floor on his sore bones is starting to ache, a counterpoint to his pleasure that's making it harder and harder to focus. Worse when he wants so badly to come inside her, instinct and habit both demanding he anchor her on him, fill her up with everything he has to give her, and the bites the sore spot on his lip until he tastes blood.

“Now, now now now,” he grits, every muscle tense as he fights to obey her.

Carolina pulls off, swinging her leg over him and grabbing for his cock, slapping his hand away as he reaches for it as well.  His cock is so slick with her that she can really grip him firmly and still slide easily.  

“Now, York.”

His back arches, and Carolina waits for the first spurt of semen before bending down.  She ducks her head low and aims blindly with his cock, taking a stream along the side of her neck and cheek before sitting back up and continuing to jerk him off.  She lightens her grip, slows her pace, but keeps a steady movement, watching him twitch as she jerks him dry.  

York cracks his good eye open. When he sees the mess he’s made of her, the pearl streaks on her face, neck, and a few drops on her shirt he lets out a low, thoroughly broken noise, and a few more drops of come bead at the head of his cock. Eyes rolling back into his head, he trembles under her touch, completely spent.

“Mmmm.”  Carolina leans down and closes her mouth over the head of his cock, gently sucking him clean. She raises herself back up, leaning up over York to kiss him.  Her hand blindly follows from his shoulder down his arm until she reaches his wrist. She raises his hand to her cheek, cups it there, tilting her head so his fingers stroke through the lines of come. 

Once she’s dirtied his fingers, Carolina takes York’s hand in both of hers, and takes one finger at a time into her mouth, cleaning them thoroughly.  She runs her teeth down the length of each one, her tongue, and finally suck them all the way to the end before moving to the next.  She licks his palm, her tongue wide and flat on his skin before setting his hand back down.  Carolina rolls onto her back next to him, turning to watch him breathe as she starts to finger herself.

“Damn,” he whispers, reverent and exhausted; York eases into his side to kiss her, trailing his fingers up and down, up and down her side in a tender circuit. He knows the hills and valleys of her body so well, and yet he still gets lost in them, smoothing his hand along every inch of her as they make out. He knows what she’s doing, wishes he could join in and make her scream his name, but there's no way he can match her pace like this and York knows when to quit. Instead, he offers gentle sensuality, a belated reciprocation of the massage she’d given him in the night, and he starts to hum a slow tune between kisses.

It doesn’t take her long - she’s well primed, and the feel of his come drying on her skin, lingering in her mouth is a powerful accelerant. She’s breathing hard against York’s mouth within a minute, and when he stops kissing her to take her lip in his teeth, she’s gone, her hips rolling against nothing as she moans into York’s lips.  She twitches gently next to him on the floor, a more peaceful ending than their usual energetic performances, but it’s just enough for now. Enough to leave her feeling sleepy and satisfied next to him, too lazy to do more than wipe off her wet hand on his chest.

“Gross,” he scolds, smiling, pulling her snug against him. His back aches; there’s a chance he’s going to have bruises on his hips from how hard she rode him into the floor, and he’s for sure sporting a tramp stamp of a rug burn. But sex with Carolina makes it difficult to really give a damn about that, so he settles for rolling on top of her and slowly kissing every inch of her face. 

“Gotta mark my territory.” She wraps her arms around his neck, holding him against her. She can feel the slightly sticky wetness of his come between them and shifts against him in the hope he feels it too. Carolina leans up to suck on his earlobe, only pulling away so she can purr in his ear. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agrees, melting under her attention, eyes closing as he soaks in the feeling of her, of him, of them mingling together. “God, I can’t believe how much I love you. It’s just-- it’s so much, you know? It’s so much. But I keep finding ways to love you more.”

“I'm going to find some new ways to love you tonight. Oh, while I'm thinking about it-" she pauses to pull back and look him in the eyes, “don't forget to put ‘lube’ on the shopping list.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he moans, feeling his pulse flutter, as spent as he is.

“Good.” She pulls him back down for more kisses, long and leisurely, and for a while her plans start to fray under the idea of an entire day of making love gently in his arms. 

It's their combined weight on the hard floor that finally gets her moving. “C'mon York. Gotta get up. Need to shower and get dressed. Lot to do today.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, rolling off her with a wince and still beating her upright. “Including me.” 

 

* * *

 

York and Carolina normally try to make their shopping trips earlier - they are usually there as the store is being unlocked, when there are few other shoppers, not as many people to notice them. They were moving too slowly today though, lazy after morning sex and too caught up in each other to really find the drive to hurry. Instead they lingered in the shower together, made out one more time, naked and still a little wet on the bed.  

They did make it out to the truck eventually, made the long drive into town. And now Carolina walks side-by side with York up the aisles, one hand resting over his as he pushes the cart. Every once in a while she takes a miniscule step to the side to brush her hip against his, or slide her fingers in and out of the gaps between his just so she can smile and pretend not to see the looks that he gives her as they stop to place a monstrous bag of flour into the cart.

“I'm scared to find out if you made good on your threat or not,” he murmurs as he leans his forearms against the handle of the cart, expression perfectly bored except for his eyes. He’s got an eyepatch on to spare the general public the sight of his eerie, foggy bad eye; the other keeps glancing down at her skirt that hits about knee length. Never for long, though. He’s still watching their corners, escape and attack angles, assessing each passerby as a potential threat. It seems Delta has passed along his paranoia. 

“Why scared?” Carolina grins as she twists her hips slightly so her skirt swishes gently from side to side.  “Nothing to worry about. I like this skirt,” she adds conversationally, “I think I will wear it more often at home. Been a long time since I last really had a chance to wear skirts and dresses, aside from the rare formal.”  Carolina half turns away from him, hand on the side of the cart to help maneuver it around the end of the aisle. “You need more coffee?”

“You get me up enough,” he replies, deepening his voice to a purr. At odds with his casual tone, his grip on the cart tightens to white-knuckled. “What’s next on the list?”

“Let's see…” Carolina holds up her phone, scrolling through a list. “We have gotten through a lot of the usual stuff but… wow. You added a lot to this from the last time I looked. Oh, you did add ‘lube’. Thanks. But what's....that?”  She holds her phone up, pointing at a word she doesn't recognize. 

“Lich-- lich-ee? Lie-chi? Lie-shee?” York puzzles. “I think D’s been adding stuff to the list.”

“D wants us to get him something?” Carolina pulls the phone back, to look at the list again.  “What is that, anyway? I don't think they're going to have much in the way of electronics anywhere we are going today.”

“No, it's a food. It's in with the rest of the edibles. I’ll go ask the clerk?” York gives her a tiny kiss before slipping off, one hand subtly outstretched to feel his way as he weaves around aisles.

Carolina watches him leave with a smile, then turns back to the list again. “Hmmm. There's some pharmacy related things here, and… I guess maybe some of this other stuff might be more produce?” She debates for only a moment which way to go, then pushes the cart in the direction York went.  

It only takes her a moment to find him - even with his head lowered and his back to her, she could pick him out of a crowd of thousands. Though it could be that his ass is simply unforgettable. Regardless, she makes sure to approach from his good side, letting him see her before she slides up to slip an arm around his waist. “Find it?”

“Not yet. They don't have it - it's a fruit - but they have supplements of it?” Trying to read all the different labels is starting to give him a headache. Maybe he should pick up some reading glasses. “I don't know. I can’t see it. Don't know if the supplement would work the same way--”

His gaze falls on a bottle of prenatal vitamins. Shit. He can't leave without them now, but in front of Carolina…

“Let's skip it,” he says, stretching with a groan. Bruises for sure. “What's next, Lina bean?” 

“Condoms.” Carolina wanders around, frowning at the shelves of vitamins, decongestants and painkillers, head swinging to look down other aisles.  “Oh hey. Found ‘em.” She waits for York to catch up with the cart while she looks over an entire rack of packages. “Um. I think this might be your area of expertise.” Carolina leans forward and grabs a box at random, reads it with her head tilted to the side. “What's the biggest size these come in?”

“Uh…” York picks up a box and winces. “Up to 11 inches. Ouch. I know mine, but… it's not  _ that _ big. Why? You know I can’t-- I'm not gonna enjoy something that big, if that's what you want to buy.”

Carolina stares at him a moment before it clicks. “Jesus Christ York, no!” She runs her hand up and down his arm in wide eyed apology. “Shit, I wouldn't do that to you. God. I wouldn't do that to  _ myself _ .”  She leans up and gives him a quick soft kiss. “I'll...let you sort this out. Find what you want and buy all the ones they have for that size. Should get us through to next month?” She adds a little wink and steps back, ready to consult her  list when the shelves behind him catch her eye.  

Carolina picks up a box of pregnancy tests, reads the label, and compares it with a couple more on the shelf. Finally she grabs a couple and slips them into the cart. When she sees York look up, she shrugs her shoulders and gives him a small sad smile. ‘We'll need them eventually.”

He doesn't know how to react to that; not when he’s comically up to his shoulder, reaching to the back of the shelf to get the last box of condoms his size. Not when she sounds so sad about it, like she expects them to go through boxes and boxes of negatives.

“In time,” he agrees, grabbing the last box, and a couple smaller sizes for toys. It's been long enough he doesn't remember what he can handle, and where the threshold between good too-much and bad too-much lies, but he does get one size up from his own just in case. He couldn't take 11. Maybe he could take a 9.

Carolina clears her throat and turns around, walking further down the aisle. She pauses again, walking slower, scanning up and down the shelves, narrowing in on what she's searching for. Finally she pulls out a couple boxes of tampons, a package of overnight pads and some panty liners. She drops them all in the cart. “Hopefully will need these soon. It's been almost seven months?  Definitely want to be prepared for that.”  She reaches back into the cart and starts reorganizing some of the items, making room. “Do we have very much left?  Oh- lube. I'll let you pick that too.”

York avoids anything flavored or oil-based and just grabs the most familiar-looking brand he can find. Nothing is quite the same out here. Sure, there’s some of the staple brands and the inescapable Space McDonalds, but it’s still an adjustment. A trust fall.

“Careful we don’t go over budget,” York warns. “I don’t want us to have to borrow money from D.” He means, of course, that he doesn’t want them to steal. But he neglects to mention that it would not have been the first time he would have done that since they left the Project.

“Trust me, we're good. I kept a close tally to make sure we left plenty for our next stop.  I believe we have… two items to get?” Carolina sidles over again to put her arms around him. She glances quickly up and down the aisle before placing his hand on her hip and pulling him down for a kiss. “If you want to get a little daring, you can finally find out. What I might or might not be wearing underneath.” Carolina nips York's lip with a smile, then leans closer to whisper in his ear.  “Make it fast though. Don't want to get caught.”

Too eager, too foolish to consider the consequences, York slips a hand up the outside of her thigh; he finds nothing, no thin catch of elastic or lace against his fingertips, and he traces the curve of her hipbone.

“Oh,  _ hell _ ,” he whispers, and he sinks his teeth into the side of his tongue. He yanks his hand away as if he’s been burned. “You’re gonna send me to an early grave, you know that?”

“But at least you'll die happy.”  Carolina sneaks one last kiss, and moves next to the cart.  She smooths the skirt over her hips before reaching to hold the side of the cart again, ready to go. “Shall we?”

York makes a low, frustrated noise in the back of his throat that rumbles more than it hisses, but he catches a glimpse of someone at the end of the aisle. So he waits, lets Carolina start to push the cart, and then slips up behind her, caging her with his arms. Under the guise of helping her push the cart, York lets his hips press briefly against her ass.

“You know we’re gonna have to fuck in the truck now, right?” he asks, unable to get his voice back up to a more reasonable, casual pitch. Even if they couldn’t hear the words, anyone listening in would know without a doubt that he’s talking dirty. “Can we at least find a parking lot for an establishment we won’t miss, if we were banned for life?”

“I'm sure we can find someplace.” Carolina pauses with the cart only a second, just enough to press him more firmly against her before she moves on. 

She tries not to antagonize him in the checkout line, but it's just too tempting to take half a step back as he tries to get around her with items from the rear of the cart and she savours his little hiss of frustration, the wordless plea for mercy. She knows he will get his revenge later but for now she bites her lip to hide a laugh and pays for the groceries.  

He loads up the cooler with the perishables and tries to keep his hands steady but fuck, fuck she’s got him live-wire jumpy with promises that he only needs to behave a little while longer. York has spent years being a patient man and he still is, but sometimes he wants to get a little impatient and he thinks she likes him like that too. 

Such a thin line to walk, though, with his history. But being in love with Carolina is proof that he’s always had a knack for wanting the things that could hurt him the worst. 

With the groceries stowed in the truck, York pulls himself into the cab, tosses the eyepatch in the general direction of the backseat, and is on top of Carolina as soon as she closes the door.

She was half expecting it  but Carolina still gasps as York crushes her into the corner of the seat and the door.  The gasp turns into a moan half way through as his mouth covers hers and his hand flicks her skirt up, out of the way. She can't do much in way of encouragement, but she hopes the way she grabs a handful of his hair and slides her tongue into his mouth to find his is eloquent enough.

“This what you wanted?” he gasps into the kiss, running his hands up and down, up and down her thighs. “You like me like this, living only to get my hands all over you?”

“Yes.”  Her face is burning with the blunt admission, with the awareness of cars driving past them and the sound of bored voices of other shoppers as they packed away their own groceries mere spaces away. “I want you to spend every waking moment wanting me, lusting for me, loving me.  I want to watch your composure and self-control crumble at a touch, no matter where we are. I want to see it in your eyes, that look that says we are seconds away from fucking- I want to see it there always. God I love you, York.” 

“But-” Carolina smiles as she pulls back enough to nip his nose, “I also like shopping for groceries here. They have a better selection than the other places we've tried. Maybe we should relocate before I straddle you and fuck you until you howl. You need to find a condom anyway.” She nips his lip this time, harder. “You and I both know you are going to come so hard that I'll have to drive us home.”

York hovers over her, fingers stilling on her skin. “I hate how much I like it when you tell me no,” he sighs, rubbing his thumb against her hipbone before retreating back to his seat. “Okay. What's the next--” he reaches down and adjusts something in his pants. “The next stop on the list?”

“Um… you know, I'm not sure,” Carolina admits. “Couldn't bring myself to ask Delta to look up a good adult store in the area. We might need to just drive around and see what we can find.” 

“You. Of all people. Were scared to ask D to do an internet search?” he teases, disbelief and affection in his tone. “The same guy that recorded you blowing me so you could listen to it later?”

“Well, when you put it like  _ that _ … does sound kind of silly.” She suddenly bursts out laughing. “I almost feel bad for whatever tech would have been tasked with going through my devices after we left. Almost. Just one last chance to say ‘fuck you’ long distance, voiced by you moaning and howling. Appropriate somehow.”

“Sorry, but I did my best to wipe us from everything. But it would be nice to get to show off what you and you alone do to me,” he admits, pausing in starting the car to rest his hand on her knee, stroke the side with his thumb. “Damn it. I gotta focus on driving. We shoulda asked the clerk about that, too. Don't wanna look it up from here and turn on our location to get directions.”  

“So we go for a short drive. I don't mind that. We haven't seen this whole town yet - been too focused on other things. Things that need to stay cold are in a cooler, we don't have to rush.”  Carolina leans over to kiss him chastely on the cheek. “It'll be fun.”

“Fun for  _ you _ ,” he replies with superficial bad humor, and makes a point of shifting in his seat as he switches the truck into drive.

It's a moderately sized city for being about a seven hour drive from the nearest spaceport. There's several groceries, some hobby stores, two supermarkets and a handful of fueling stations, both electric and gasoline. The whole place is a patchwork of modern and historic, without being so small that anyone has yet to recognize them on repeated visits. It's not until they start to reach downtown that they have any luck.

“Eve’s Garden looks promising,” he suggests, twisting to check his mirrors before switching lanes to turn. “Hope we can find some parking. Must be something happening in town today. Sports game, maybe?”

Carolina frowns, peering along the street. “This town big enough for sports teams? I guess they could have like... Junior A level. I'd be amazed if they could pull in this many people, but you know what? I hope so. That would make me happy in some weird way.”  She points ahead. “There's one, there's a spot. You see it?” 

“No,” he says, even as he pulls in with uncanny accuracy. 

“Prick. And speaking of pricks…” Carolina opens her door and slides out. “Shall we?”

York rests his elbows on the steering wheel, breathing in deep through his folded hands. “I think so.” He’s red to his ears already, fighting a sudden fit of shame. He loves Carolina and is delighted to have her plow him, but there's still that fragile male ego that stings to admit how much he likes it. “Yeah. Let's go-- but I'm not talking to anybody in there, okay? We are  _ not _ getting advice on this.”

“York,” Carolina freezes in the door, “we can wait. We don't have to do this now if you don't feel ready. Or… I could go in alone.  If that would be better? Sweetheart?” 

“No waiting,” he assures her, chewing on his bottom lip. “But-- it would be more of a surprise if you picked it out for me. Do… do you wanna do that?”

“Sure, I can do that.” Carolina crosses to the other side of the truck and opens his door, tilting her head in for a kiss. “Stay out of trouble. I'll be right back.”

 

* * *

 

York tries to twist around in his seat and hide the box of crackers he’d opened to taste-test, but he’s pretty sure she sees him do it anyway. She looks satisfied, at least, wearing that smug little smile she'd get when she aced a particularly difficult sim in training, and he wipes his hands off on his pants as she gets into the truck. He’s tense and starting to feel over sensitive, like she’s been edging him for hours, and he hopes it doesn't show on his face when he greets her.

“So. Find something you liked?”

“That's not the real question, is it?” Carolina tucks a black bag with red ribbon handles between her legs as she buckles up, then turns her smile on him. “The question is, did I find something you will like?” She peeks in the bag, then closes it again. “Guess we will find out in a bit.”

Carolina taps her fingers against her leg while York pulls out of the parking spot and gets them back on the road.  She hadn’t anticipated his sudden attack of nerves, had been counting on him knowing the kinds of things he would like, definitely better than she would.  But there was no way she was going to ask him to do anything that would make him anxious - that was not how she wanted to start this adventure with him. And even now, if they got home and he decided this wasn't something he wanted to do, she would be okay with that too. 

The hand he rests on her knee once they reach the highway tells a different story. At first, he seems to ground himself on her, drawing comfort from her nearness even as he kept his eyes on the road. But as the long drive back home wore on, he started to stroke her skin with his fingertips, light and sensual. Up and under the hem of her skirt, inching it ever higher, down to the dip in the side of her kneecap, tracing a scar. Up and down, up and down, almost hypnotic. His expression stays placid, eyes firmly on the road, but that hand reminds her of an earlier promise.

“York,” Carolina keeps her voice soft so as not to startle him. “Stop the car. Right here. Put it in park.”

The grin that steals across his face is sudden, sly, and almost blinding in its intensity. “Something wrong, my love?” he asks, flipping on his hazard lights and easing on the gas.

“Yes.” Carolina leans over to look in the backseat. “I just realized I have no idea which of these bags has the condoms.”

“We don’t need condoms if you just ride my hand,” York offers, putting the truck in park and reaching for Carolina.

“No, this isn't for me, love.” Carolina reaches over to stroke her thumb over York's bottom lip. “I want you to come. I want you to come right here. Where anyone could drive by and see us.  I want you to come so hard you  _ melt _ . I want you nice and happy and relaxed so you are comfortable when I plough you tonight.” Carolina bites her own lip, and looks into his eyes. “We can do it here, you can fuck me against the side of the truck… anything you like.  But let's start soon - we could get caught at any time.”  She smiles and draws his hand up her thigh again.

The smug look he wears fades, replaced by shameless need. “Ride me,” he begs, pulling her into his lap anyway, crushing her chest against his as he kisses her, slipping his other hand under her skirt and squeezing her ass. “Wanna hold you like this, watch your face, let you watch mine before you crush it against the mattress tonight. Fuck,” he breathes, fingers skimming between her legs and finding the skin there already humid from sweat and want. “I have no idea which bag they’re in either.”  

“Take off your belt, I'll look.” Carolina moves off him for a moment, trying to peek over his shoulder into the bags in the backseat. “We bought so many, you'd think it would be obvious. Ah!” She leans down as far as she can and snags a silver package from one bag and holds it up in triumph. Carolina breaks the seal on the box and pulls out a small foil packet, which she hands to York.  “Hard enough yet? Or do I need to give you a hand?” 

“I’ve been ready for hours,” he whispers, holding her gaze as he tears open the condom packet with his teeth.  “ever since I knew how easy-access you were in the store. Driving me crazy, Carolina. Was gonna see if I could do the same to you, and it looks like I did.” York reaches between them to slip a finger into her, where she’s already starting to get wet. “Score’s one-to-one, then. Good.”

Carolina lowers her mouth to his neck, sucking lightly as she shifts her hips, trying not to moan as he breaches her. “How long until a car comes by, you think?” she asks in a whisper. “And how much do you think we can make this truck rock?”

“Hopefully never, and a bunch,” he rambles, head falling back against the seat as he keeps lightly touching her. It’s making it really, really hard to put the condom on with his non-dominant hand.  

Carolina’s breath catches and she rocks down on his hand.  “Please tell me it is almost on, because I want to fuck you until you scream.” 

“Multi-tasking here, babe.” He drops it for the third time and bites his lip. “Did you grab the right box?”  

“Its silver, that's all I know...where did it go?” Carolina checks the seat space around her. “What sizes did you get?”

“Five boxes for me, and one or two up and down for whatever sex toy you got. Did you grab the ones called snug fit?”

“Here it is…” Carolina's hand finally closes around the box. “Uh… snugger fit? Is that what you said?”

“No wonder it doesn’t fit right.” York lets out a short breath. “Wrong box. Next one?”

“On it.” Carolina leans over again, trying hard to focus on the contents of the bags and not the way that York decides to add a second finger as she pulls up.  She shivers in spite of herself. “Oh you smug prick.”

York is too far gone to grin at this, just drinking her in and savoring her satisfaction as a substitute for his own. Something else occurs to him then. “Fuck, we forgot to grab lunch in town too. D is right. Left to our own devices all we wanna do is bone.”

“There's something wrong with that?” Carolina closes her hand around another box, red this time, and she pulls herself back up with a grunt, then a gasp as York plunges his fingers in deeper. “R-regular fit… that's what you needed, right?” She nearly tears the box clean in half, and thrusts a condom at him with a shaking hand. 

“Fast food probably isn't th-- the best for you anyway,” he concedes, mouthing along her jawline. “You wanna put it on for me?”

Carolina doesn't waste energy answering. She tears open the foil and frowns at the little disk of latex. She pinches the tip, places it on York's cock and rolls it down in a series of quick movements.  “Think you're ready now? I need you, York.”

If he wasn't already - and he was, had wanted this since the supermarket - the way he jolts at her open admission would have certainly gotten him there. “Yes,” he breathes, and this time it’s him guiding her down into him, moaning like she’d punched the air out of him as she eases down around him. “God _ damn _ .”

The condom isn't a poor fit, it works and feels like it should stay in place, but he’s hyper aware of the barrier between their bodies. To make up for it, York wraps his arms around her torso, clinging to her for dear life and trying to hold her as close as physically possible through their clothes. “Leave-- leave it on,” he begs as she starts to reach for her shirt. “Don't wanna give anyone else an eyeful of you. So fucking sick of having to share you-- sometimes I--”

York bites his tongue and shakes his head. “Just-- leave it on, okay?”

“Anything for you.” It's hard to catch her breath, the feel of him  _ finally _ sliding into her paired with the adrenaline rush of being so exposed has her almost winded. Carolina takes his face in her hands, tilting his face up until his lips meet hers. At the first touch of his tongue, she starts to move.

She has to keep her head bent, tilted slightly to the side to avoid bumping the top of the cab as she rides him.  There isn't a lot of room to move, cramped as they are and with York holding her so tightly, but she manages to lever herself against the seat, working into a tight little rhythm against him, rolling her hips at the same time. “The truck is going to smell like us for  _ weeks _ after this. Every time you open this door you are going to smell me and get hard.”

York makes a sharp noise, fingers spasming against her sides. “Shit,” he gasps, and the truck rocks as a car whooshes past. He wonders if she feels him twitch inside her as his eyes flutter shut on a moan. “Oh, god-- oh fuck, this is good. So good. Oh god.”

“I love how much you like this, York.” Carolina presses herself harder against him, bending to breath hard against his neck. “We need to have more public sex if you are going to get off this much. I wish you could see yourself right now-” she pulls back to take him in and then returns again, pressing her smile into his neck in a kiss, “-you are deliciously wrecked.”

“It's not just that, it’s--” so hard to put a name to it, the cocktail of emotions, of wanting to be shown off and show her off but needing to know that at the end of the day they’re exclusively each other's, with no more UNSC or PFL or any other abbreviation making demands of them. Of being given the secret that as they shopped she was so easy and ready for him and only him, and yet he couldn't touch her. It doesn't make sense, none of it, but it does something to him and it makes him wail against her, scooting forward to get leverage and move against her, get even deeper as she grinds against him so tight it's a back and forth rather than an up and down. “--so much, god, fff-fuck, bite me please, mark me up, need to feel it since I can’t feel all of you, I need, I need, I need--”

Mind skipping like a broken record from how badly he needs to come, York sinks his teeth into his lower lip and bursts open the scab from earlier.

Carolina lowers her head to where York's neck meets his shoulder, and bites hard as she thinks he can bear. “Mine,” she growls through her mouthful, before softening her grip and starting to suck. Her hand comes up the other side of his neck, first to caress, then to drag her nails down the side of his throat, only just hard enough to leave long red marks in her wake. “I want everyone to see you're mine.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” York chants in time with each buck of his hips, yanking her down each time to try to get deeper, closer; he feels so greedy like this but he wants to be half as good for her as she is for him, as she’s still planning to be for him. In a fit of desire, he breaks free of her grip to duck under her shirt, fumbling her bra loose to shove it out of the way and latch his mouth against her nipple with almost a painful intensity.

Carolina squeals, seizing two handfuls of his hair and pulling, while at the same time trying to crush him against her. 

“Yes, fuck yes, York…” Carolina tries to keep thrusting against him but her rhythm is becoming more broken and erratic under the touch of his mouth. “You are so fucking  _ perfect, _ god…” She pauses then leans toward his ear to whisper, “Here comes another car, York. I want to take you extra deep for this one.”

The whole vehicle shakes under the force of the passing car’s tailwind, and York trembles even more, bending Carolina backwards in his desperation, nearly pinning her to the steering wheel. He takes her nipple in his teeth and pulls, just hard enough that she gasps, pushing her shirt up to her chin with trembling hands so he could hold her gaze.

“Come for me, sweetheart? Please?”

Carolina forces her hand between them to give herself a bit more stimulation but it is barely necessary- she has hardly touched herself when every muscle seizes in a wave of pleasure. She lets go of York's hair before she can manage to tear any free, gripping his shoulders hard enough to bruise.  She jerks and bucks against him, moaning his name loudly enough to be heard outside for certain.

“You-” It's hard to focus on his face, hard to concentrate on anything at all except the way he is still thrusting into her. “Come, York…  _ fuck…” _

“I love you, I love you,” he gasps with his forehead pressed against hers, feeling the sweat on her skin and the tickle of her bangs; York takes in a breath of fresh air, dust and the scent of sex and he’s gone, howling the phrase over and over again. “I l-love you, love you, I love love love you,” until words fail him and he buries himself in her, buries his nose in the crook of her neck.

“Shhhh. Shhh, I've got you.” Carolina's arms feel as though there are weights tied at her wrists, but she manages to lift them anyway, to stroke York’s hair, to kiss every inch of his skin she can reach. “You okay?”

In response, he slides his hands against the exposed skin of her back, pulling her down as he leans against the seat.

“So good,” he promises, one hand easing between them to gently cup one breast and stroke the stiff nipple. “You're always so good. Number one for a reason.”

Even now his touch makes her shiver.  “Well, as much as I would like to cuddle and bask in all this well-deserved praise,” Carolina leans forward to touch their noses together, “we really should get home. Gotta get some food in you. Let you rest up a bit.”  

She tries to pull back, but finds his arms locking tight around her. “Nnnnno.”

Carolina smiles, and for the moment relaxes in his grip. “Trust me, sweetheart,” she says, massaging his neck and leaning forward so her lips brush his as she talks. “If we were anywhere but here, I would curl myself around you and cuddle you for  _ hours _ .  I am fucking worn out. But we need to get home. It's be a shame if we had a cop or trooper or ranger or whatever the fuck they have out here...if one drove by now.” 

She kisses his nose and pulls back, careful not to hit him with a knee or elbow as she pulls back, while at the same time completely dismissive of any fluids that smear on her skin and clothes. 

“Thought you’d like me in handcuffs,” he mumbles, gritting his teeth as she slips off him. The sensations - the lack of contact, the come threatening to ooze down as he softens, the restrictive feel of the condom - are ruining the afterglow.

“Oh, I do. But only when I put them there.” Carolina settles into the seat next to him and leans against his shoulder, sighing contentedly.  “Need me to drive?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Here, switch me places - go over the top. I'm used to sitting on your lap, let me try it the other way for a change.” Carolina pats her leg in invitation.

“Mmm.” York eases the condom off, eyes fluttering shut at that last bit of stimulation, and makes an attempt at tying off the condom. But it's slick and he’s too out of it to function and he gives Carolina a pathetic look with come all over his fingers and jeans. “Gonna have to practice this, huh?”

Carolina smiles as she takes in his hands and pants  “Maybe. But I do find it rather hot to see you such a mess. You look fucking gorgeous.”  She reaches over to take him by the wrist, lifting his fingers to her mouth. She takes them one by one between her lips, caressing each with her tongue and sucking them clean, all the while looking into York's eyes.  “Mmm. God you taste so good.” 

God help him, he whines like a bitch in heat over that. “You’re gonna kill me. You know that, right?” Without waiting for a reply, he tumbles on top of her, kissing her deeply and licking his come out of her mouth with a moan. But he can’t hold himself over her for long, not with his muscles gone to jelly, and he slumps at an odd angle between her and the door, jeans halfway down his thighs.

“Look at me,” he laments, pulling up his pants with mock resentment. “You fucked me so good I can’t even sit right, and you haven’t even pulled out the big guns.”

Carolina’s smile grows threefold. “Get yourself tucked in, belted in, and if you need a snack, grab it before we start moving. Rest up while you can.  I want to get you home and spoil you until it's time to really fuck you up. God-” Carolina let's her eyes travel down his body and back up. “I'm already feeling tempted. Let's get moving before I bend you over in the truck bed.”

York settles in next to her, filling her seat as she scoots over to take his. “Like I would stop you,” he reminds her, resting his head on her shoulder and one hand high on her thigh. He can’t keep his eyes open and yawns as she turns the ignition and shifts the truck into drive.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“York.”

Carolina puts the truck in park, reaches down and runs her fingers over York's hand where he has rested it on her thigh. He's leaning against her, head on her shoulder, where it has been almost since she got into the driver’s seat.  

“C’mon York. We've got perishables that need to go in. I'd just leave you here to sleep but I know you get upset when I try to do things like this without you.” She runs a hand through his hair and tilts her head to kiss whatever bit of him she can reach. “Time to get up.”

He cracks his good eye open, blinking a few times before leaning in to nuzzle her. “How long ‘s I out?”

“Let's see… you started snoring about 10 seconds after we got moving… it took us just over an hour to get home.  And I'm not sure you are totally awake yet so the counter is still going.”  Carolina nuzzles him back. “You are adorable when you sleep- snores, drool and all.”

“Any time I spend with you feels like a dream,” he slurs, yawning again. He spreads his fingers so that hers slip between them, then twines them together properly on her thigh. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”  Carolina sighs into his hair, but after a moment kisses him with a bit more energy. “C’mon. If we’re going to lazy about in each other’s arms, can we at least do it inside on the bed?  Where we can actually be comfortable?  _ After _ we put the groceries away?”

York’s long suffering sigh is more for show than anything, and he finally sits up and lets her take off her seatbelt.  Carolina exits the truck, folds her seat forward and starts pulling bags out of the backseat. She takes only two for now so she can manage to open the front door, and by the time she walks around the truck to do so, York is finally outside the cab, shaking the cobwebs out of his head as he pushes his seat forward.  

She lets herself in and deposits the bags on the counter, then returns outdoors just in time to hear York swear.  “York?  What’s wrong?”

There’s a cascade of tiny foil squares overflowing out of the cab of the truck. York is staring down at them with a long suffering expression, one hand burdened with groceries and the other running through his hair. “Can we just… leave these here in the garage?”

Carolina grins. “Okay, leave the ones in the truck, at least for now.  Take your bag inside.  I’ll get the ones on the floor, just so they don’t, blow away or anything.  But I think I’ll leave them out here too--” Carolina looks thoughtfully around, “I think maybe soon I’d like to bend you over your worktable, fuck you out here.”  She steps up to him, heavy lidded and smiling to tilt his face to hers for a kiss.  “I’m serious, I want to make it so anywhere you go, you are reminded of a time we fucked.  I want you to walk in here and get hard at the memory.”

York swallows, hard, then rallies as he backs her up against the truck. “That's only if I don’t bend you over in those places first, sweetheart,” he counters, voice low and gentle.

Carolina smiles wider, pulling him tighter against her, bending one knee to run her leg against his.  “I’d enjoy that must as much. Maybe you should just always carry a condom on you.  Just in case.”  She gazes into his eyes a second longer, then gives herself a little shake. “We’re never going to get things put away at this rate. Come on, we still have things to get done tonight.  Like  _ you. _ ”

“Yes, ma’am,” and just to be an ass about it he gives her earlobe a little nibble before bending down to start picking up the condoms, sorting them by size as fast as he could.

Carolina reaches down and grabs a few before he can pick up all of them, and she makes sure that he is watching as she tucks a couple into one of the drawers of his tool chest.  She then places two more on his workbench, one to fit him, one to fit the strap on.  She gives him a wink, and returns to the other side of the truck to pull out more bags.

He loves her so much, sometimes it feels heavy; like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders and would break it into pieces on her word. His shoulders slump with the weight of it, but the smile that breaks across is face is punch drunk and glad to be so tired, so overwhelmed by something so good.

Carolina looks up through the cab, watching him watching her.  “Hey, dreamer… time to wake up. Let’s get this stuff inside, okay? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. C’mon.”

Dopey grin still in place, York keeps gathering up groceries and follows Carolina inside, the plastic bag handles cutting into wrists as he attempted to carry in all four weeks worth of groceries in one trip. He follows her around the kitchen, reaching for something above her whenever she kneeled to put things away, any excuse to be within ten feet of her or bump against her at any turn.

“What’re we making tonight?” he asks, already half in the cracker box he had opened before.

“Depends.” Carolina pulls out the last bags on her side and shuts the door, waiting for him to round the side of the truck before she continues. “If you want to just have something small and quick, it might be best, since we’re going to have a rather… energetic...evening tonight. Plus, I’ll need time to butcher the larger cuts of meat before we can cook with a lot of it, and if I’m going to do that, I’ll do it all at once and seal most of it to go in the chest freezer.  So I’m down for sandwiches, or a salad. Sandwiches and a salad.  But if you’re in the mood for something else,  _ besides crackers _ ,” she gives him a pointed look, “just say so.”

“Oh, you're not even gonna take me to dinner first? Wine and dine me?” York mocks offence around a mouthful of crackers. 

Carolina leans against the counter, tapping her lips with one finger and tilts her head as she looks at him thoughtfully.  “I could,” she admits.  “Is that what you would like? A fancy dinner, wine, maybe a little dancing first?  Then move on to the seduction proper?  Or do you want me to just feed you chicken nuggets and fuck you like the desperate thirsty slut you are?”

He can’t hide the grin or the hot flush of want that brings to his cheeks. “Why can’t be both? Steak and a nice Cabernet Sauvignon and then you plow me like you’re getting paid to do it?”

“Okay then.” Carolina starts sorting through bags, lining up the groceries on the counter and moving them to the pantry, or fridge as needed.  “When you find the bag with the meat in it, set it aside - I’ll start cutting things up.  I’ll do the beef first and hand off a couple steaks for you to put on the grill while I get the rest of this put away. Think about if you want any music or any other soft little touches.  If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”

_ “I would be happy to assist with mood music _ ,” Delta chimes in from the ceiling - York jumps, crackers rustling in the box.

“Absolutely not. I don't trust your taste in music.”

“ _ Very well.”  _

York catches the look Carolina throws him and adopts an apologetic tone. “Thank you for the offer, however.”

“ _ You are welcome. Did the store provide all the items on the list? Or should I assist in setting up a post office box for mail order items? Proper nutrition is vital for healing the body in preparation for pre--” _

_ “ _ That’d be great, D, thanks,” York cuts him off, rolling up the bag and closing the cracker box as loudly as possible. “Bye.”

“ _ Understood.” _

Carolina gives York a half-sad, half-amused smile. “You didn't have to do that. I'm not that fragile, York. Had a rough time for a bit, but I've got my legs back under me again. I will almost definitely have bad days again, but that's just… being human. I think it's sweet that he wants to help, and anything that can be done to give us the best chance possible, I will do.  To be honest, with the wealth of knowledge he has at his fingertips, he probably has a far better idea of what to do that we do.”

“But,” she adds, stepping forward to kiss him warmly, “it makes my heart melt, the way you try to protect me. The way you try to take care of me. And,” she wraps her arms behind his neck, leaning forward so they are nose to nose, “It makes me see what a wonderful father you will make one day.”

The way she swims in his vision and the smile that breaks his face in half contradict each other, but that’s just how he feels. “H-hell yeah, I’m gonna be,” he agrees, swallowing hard and ducking down to wrap his arms around her. “Our kids are gonna be so amazing and so loved. So goddamn loved. No leaderboards. All perfect as they are.”

“Of course they will be.” It's easy to picture York as a father, it always has been. It was more difficult to think of herself as a mother.  Not because she was unsure whether she wanted to be, but because her career wouldn't allow it, so she didn't allow herself to even consider anything else except her work.  This new life with York has changed so much already, challenging so much that she assumed, so much she thought she knew about herself. This freedom and the revelations it brought are dizzying, and some days it feels like York is the only thing keeping her from being completely overwhelmed with it all.

Carolina pulls back with a smile.  “Let me get this meat all cut up so we can get to the fun part of the day.  Okay?”

“In a second? Just… give me a minute.”

York shifts to meld his body better with hers, pressing his face into her shoulder and breathing deeply. She gives him so much, throws herself whole-heartedly into everything that he worries she might burn out; he’s so thankful and yet so greedy too, as he drinks in her presence, a lone stubborn tear sinking into her shirt.

“Okay. Okay, yeah,” and when York pulls back he’s grinning again, a weight lifted off his shoulders. “I can get started on a side dish or something. We still have some potatoes, right?”

“Yep. Half a bag still in the pantry.”  Carolina lifts herself slightly on her tiptoes to kiss his nose. “You focus on that, and I'll start on the meat. I have to say,” she adds, conversationally, “I'm really glad we didn't go cheap on the kitchen knives.  One of my only regrets when we ran was that I left all my knives behind. Not the same thing, I know, but it does feel good to have a proper piece of steel in my hand.” Carolina goes quiet for a moment. “I wonder if Niner still has the one I gave her?”

“I bet she does. It’s a nice knife.” The sound of water rushing as he fills the sink, the gentle swish of the brush as he scrubs the potatoes. “I hope we can reach out to her again soon. It’s been a long time.”

_ “...Should I put a firearm or other self defense weapon on the shopping list?” _ Delta asks, a little cautiously. 

“....no.” Carolina looks over at York. “At least, not yet, Delta. We will let you know.”

“Don’t mope, D, you’re doing fine,” York assures, having completely missed the look - too focused on his potatoes. “Maybe we can find a hunting and fishing store next trip. Would you wanna get into archery? It’s target practice, just… low tech and not as noisy as guns.”

Carolina perks up immediately.  “Absolutely. That sounds fucking fantastic. I always did have a crush on Robin Hood.”  

“Which one? Men in Tights, Mel Gibson, or the fox? I liked the fox.”

“Definitely the Disney one. I wanted to be Maid Marian, but wanted a bow too.” Carolina grins to herself as she starts sharpening her butcher knife. 

“That,” York declares, pausing in her work to face her, “is the best thing I’ve ever heard of. My sharp shooting, king robbing Maid Marian. Hell, you’re already quite a foxy dame - right hair color, too,” and he taps the side of his head with the heel of his wet hand. “Rescue me any day.”

“I would love to be your badass archery vixen.” Carolina's grin grows even wider as she puts away the file and starts ripping open plastic bags full of meat. “If I ever split an arrow in two, I should win some sort of a prize. Maybe not golden arrow level, but something. You know I'll be busting to make it happen.”

“Perhaps your prize would be--” it takes him a second to find the hand towel, but York drapes it over his head like a nun’s veil. “--a kiss from the tender flower Robin Hood?” He even flutters his eyelashes.

Carolina bursts out laughing. “Perfect. Completely perfect. Yes!”  She picks up her knife and starts to get to work on a piece of beef.  “What would it take for us to get our hands on a copy of that movie? I would love to watch it with you.”

“Deeeeeeeeeeeelta? Feel like doing a bit of potential piracy for us?”

_ “For you? No.”  _

York snorts.

_ “For Carolina? Yes.” _

“There we go.” The little nod he makes as he drapes the towel across his shoulders confirms that he expected this answer.

_ “I would need you to turn on the television first. Then I will see what I can do about getting a digital download or a stream of it. It may take several minutes as the satellite I usually use is not in the optimal direction.” _

“I’ve picked locks in firefights, I am sure you can handle the stars being a little out of alignment,” York teases back.

A rush of static in the speakers in the ceiling - a synthesized sigh of long-suffering.  _ “I know. I was there. Doing the majority of the work.” _

“And I took the majority of the bullets.”

“Boys,” Carolina says in a sing song voice, focusing on her knife placement, “can't we please just get along?”

In perfect, practiced unison: “He  _ started  _ it.”

“Oh my God, it's like I'm a mom already.  Do I need to send you both to your rooms? Sheesh.”  There is no heat in her words, and this smile is pure affection.

_ “My rooms are all the rooms. My system exists in nearly every room in the-- York, you do remember installing a camera in the hallway, correct?” _

“I do remember, yes,” York replies, one hand still held in the air from flapping it like a mouth to mock him. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

“Oh my god…” Carolina’s head drops toward her chest.  “I swear, I can feel my hair turning grey.”  

_ “Understood. I have added hair dye to your shopping list for the next trip. _

York tuts. “Now that’s just mean. C’mere.” Potatoes forgotten, he shuffles over and throws the towel around Carolina’s neck, pulling himself in with it and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll behave, so we can eat and you can punish me later. How’s that sound?”

“About that…” Carolina looks up with a smile, but her eyes are serious. “I know how I would love tonight to go down, but I'm also aware that you haven't done this in a while, and I never have.  I want to give you everything you want, the way you want It, but I also don't want to hurt you. We will have to work out way up to rougher stuff… once I know you are okay.  Gonna need your help with this at first, okay?”

Still draped around her, York tilts his head. “Green, yellow, red. That’s enough for me if it’s enough for you. And when we’re finished with dinner, I’ll need a shower. Alone.”

“Other than that…” Another kiss to her cheek. “I trust you. And I’ll let you know what’s good and what isn’t. Just… be yourself, okay? It’s going to be good so long as it’s you. ”

“God, I love you so much.”  Carolina leans into his kiss. “I just want to do this right. I want to focus completely on you tonight. I want you to be a happy messy puddle on the sheets when I'm done with you, and I'll do everything I can to give that to you.”

“Oh, that’s all? You do that enough already,” he plays back. Kissing her nose, he continues. “I get it, though. I’ll coach you, if I gotta. I learned from the best at giving orders, anyway.” 

“I'm a quick learner- if you have to, it won't be for long.”  Carolina looks over and clears her throat. “Change of subject.  I'm starting to have… impure thoughts. You are looking really tempting and I still have all this meat to handle.”

“Yeah, but you better finish with the steaks first, huh?” One last kiss to the corner of her mouth, then he slinks back to finish washing the last potato. Soon he’s grabbing a knife and cutting board of his own and slicing wedges, turning on the oven and gathering up oil and spices.

They continue like that for a while - each working at their own stations, content in their quiet proximity. It doesn’t occur to York to fixate on whatever Carolina bought for him earlier because the now is just as enticing, just as important. He lives for this, bled and fought and endured for this, the domesticity and the peace. Just as they always have, they work together and around each other, this time passing along spices instead of ammo.

No candles, and they keep forgetting to pick up stem glasses, but Delta does dim and warm the lights to match the sunset glow spreading through the living room. 

The table is set as it always is, for two, and York waits patiently for Carolina to open the wine.

Carolina makes quick work of the cork, and pours out the rich red wine. It would be nice one day to collect a decent selection of wine. Even if they couldn’t have a proper wine cellar, it would be nice to have a supply enough to see them through to each shopping trip. It was a luxury that she would like to share with him regularly, given the chance, quietly unwinding after a day working in the garden.

York is showing talent at the barbecue, the steaks nicely seared, and she feels her mouth start to water.  There is so much that they have had to adjust to since they ran from the Project, but at least they have eaten well. Even if the steaks don’t taste exactly like the ones on Earth or the MOI.

York rests his chin in one hand, staring up at her with what he knows is a dopey grin on his face. He’s a fool, in love, and he doesn’t mind whatever playful mock she might throw his way for staring.

“I could get drunk off just watching you,” he murmurs.

Carolina hands him a glass. “You look like you already are. Here, have some alcohol and sober up.”  She raises her own glass. “Here's to a quiet life alone.  And fucking you senseless tonight.”

He misses part of his mouth but catches the drops with his hand, hoping she doesn't see it despite looking sitting two feet away. “Mighta used a bit too much salt with the potatoes, so don’t add any more,” he warns. He has the practice for cooking, but he doesn’t think he’s got the instinct, the knack. Anyone can follow a recipe, but it takes a better person than him to make something extraordinary. 

She tries a forkful and her eyes nearly roll back. “Are you fucking kidding me? These are fantastic.  I could make an entire meal out of these potatoes and your cock alone.” 

“Oh?” The syllable curls up at the end with his smile, pulse quickening with arousal, and he takes a bite of steak. “You're no slouch with seasonings yourself. Better be careful how much we cook. I don't wanna get too fat in retirement too soon.”

“Control portion sizes, don't eat too unhealthy and keep active - I don't think we need to overly worry.  Think how many calories we burn with sex alone. Well, you won't tonight. You're going to lie there and take it.”  Carolina makes a show of letting her eyes drift over his body before sinking her teeth into piece of steak, winking at him before tugging it off the tines of her fork.

York shivers, forgetting the food halfway to his mouth for several long seconds. He has to force himself not to bolt down the food, to savor it and give his body time to recover from the round in the truck. He does, however, take a deep drink of wine and sits back in his chair, throwing one arm over the back to give her easy access to the eye candy.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees, stabbing his steak with a fork and tearing off a piece with his teeth. A bit of blood and other juices start to drip down his lips - he licks them off with a wet pop, eyeing Carolina from the corner of his good eye, watching her watch him with a sly grin.

“You are making it very hard not to skip the rest of dinner and go straight for dessert.” Carolina bumps her foot against his under the table, then moves it up to stroke along his ankle and calf.  

“Gotta keep your energy up, babe,” he reminds her. “You haven't had a real meal since breakfast. Just think of it as dinner and a show?”

In answer, she has another forkful of potatoes. “Good point.  I'll be doing all the work tonight. And loving... every... second.”  Carolina reaches over and taps York's nose with the handle of her fork.

The dopey smile is back as he tears off another piece of steak.

 

* * *

 

It has been nearly a minute since the shower turned off.  A minute that she's been out here, waiting for York to join her. A lesser person might have started to get nervous.

Carolina gives herself a look from top to toe in the full length mirror.  York has seen her before in this plain black bra, stockings and heels, but the strap on is new and she doubts he'll notice much else. 

She's made sure to position herself in direct view for when he opens the door, but far enough away that she won't startle him. 

She has arranged everything she can think they will need on the bed and table.  The pillows all have fresh cases, the lube is waiting nearby, and there are spare condoms of multiple sizes on the table. 

All that is left is York.

Right on cue, he knocks on the door frame, towel slung low around his waist. He’s got a playful phrase on his lips that dies when he sees her standing on the other side of the bed, artificial cock hard and ready for him.

“Oh, damn,” he stammers, and he has to lean against the wall. “You-- you ready?”

“That's not the question, is it?”  Carolina glides around the edge of the bed, feeling the way the inky black dildo bounces slightly in the harness with each step. She stops in front of him, eyeing him up and down. “The question is, are you?”  Carolina reaches out and tugs off the towel, dropping it dismissively on the floor at York's feet.

It takes effort not to let his knees buckle, to not pant and drool and beg like a dog. It probably shows in his expression and he nods.

“Yes, ma’am,” and the syllables roll off his tongue, breathless and hard already.

Carolina steps closer, keeping only enough distance that she doesn't touch him with her strap on cock, but close enough that she can reach up and grab a handful of his hair.  She hears his breath catch as she tightens her fingers, and she pauses for only a moment to enjoy the way his head tilts slightly back, how his eyes fight not to close, before she leads him to the foot of the bed.  Once she has him standing where she wants, Carolina releases his hair.  But instead of removing her hand, she claws it slowly down his back, leaving hot red furrows over his skin.

She takes a step around him in order to face him.  “On your knees, York.”

Thank god they have carpet. If not, he’d have bruised his knees with how hard and fast he drops, eyes rolling up to meet hers as his lips part, saliva starting to pool on his tongue already as he drags his lips across the head of Carolina’s strap on.

“Good, York.” Carolina drags her fingernails through his hair.  “Take it in.”  She grips his hair again, and stands up a little straighter.

He licks a sloppy stripe along the side, taking in the soft silicone texture under the thin rubber of the condom. The moan he lets out is raw and unbidden, and he sucks on the head of her cock, getting it slick with saliva enough for him to grab her hips and take her all the way down in one smooth go. 

His gag reflex is near nonexistent - a point of pride for him that hasn't had a chance to be shown off in years. His nose is pressed against her lower stomach as he starts to move along her length, hands shaking with want and effort as he takes it to the base over and over again.

“I’m impressed, York.” Carolina murmurs softly when he pulls back to breathe.  She loosens her grip to stroke him, holding his gaze as she takes in the flush in his cheeks, the redness in his lips. “God, I wish I had a real cock, just so I could come in your mouth.  Just so I could watch you swallow it.”  Carolina can’t feel anything, but there is still a dark satisfaction as she moves his mouth back onto the black silicon dick and pulls him deep.

Her praise is like water in the desert, and he redoubles his efforts, guided by her hand in his hair as she fucks his mouth with the strap on. He’s always loved it when she’s dominated him, gotten rough and demanding and used him for her pleasure. Here, like this, he can’t even speak - can hardly breathe around the choking thickness of her artificial cock and fuck, he thinks he could come from this alone.

When she lets him up to gasp for air, York watches the strings of saliva hang and snap between her cock and his lips, and he gladly tilts his face up for her inspection.

Carolina tenderly runs the tip of her finger over York’s bottom lip, smearing the saliva smoothly over it.  “You’re so pretty like this.” She cups her hand under his chin, tilting him up further to her and leans down to meet him for a short chaste kiss.  But that small brush of his lips lights a fire in her.  “On your feet, York.”

She takes a step back as he scrambles up, and as York straightens, Carolina lets her eyes drift over his body.  Only someone who had known him during their time in the Project would be able to see any signs of him softening.  He is still heavily muscled, but the hard edges are gone, so are all the signs of a body pushed to its utter limits. He is a different kind of strong now, one that she still struggles to define. For only a moment, she wonders what changes he might see in her, and if it pleases him as much.

Only a second has passed, but she still blinks as she comes back to the present.  

“On the bed.”  Carolina gives him an almost casual shove that sends him sprawling onto the mattress.  “Get yourself ready.”  She follows him up, far more gracefully, and kneels at the end of the bed.  With a possessive smile, she waits until he looks back before she closes her hand over the silicon cock, stroking it as though jerking off.  “I'm ready for you.”

“Holy shit,” he breathes, the words barely audible. On his knees, York scrambles for the lube, coats two fingers liberally, and without bothering to let it warm up he reaches back to start to work himself open.

He hasn't done this for years - a lack of practice and nerves are making him tight, undoing some of the work he’d done in the shower. But he gets a finger in, and the second after that, scissoring gently and pressing his face into the pillow. York is already flushed all the way to his chest, breathing hard into the bedding, and jumps when he feels the bed shift under Carolina’s movement.

“I might make you finger yourself more often, just so I can watch and touch myself.”  Her voice us low and soft, but carries a dark heat as she reaches forward to grab the lube.  “I didn't realize just how wet it would make me to see that.”  

“Yeah?” he asks, shooting her a wrecked look over his shoulder. York swallows, saliva still running freely in his mouth, as he watches her stroke her cock. “God-- fuck-- why’re you so  _ hot _ ?” he moans, cheek flat against the pillow as he works a third finger in.

Carolina looks down critically at her strap on, judging just how slick it is, then adds a bit more. It's too much, judging by the drips that end up on the sheets, but she would rather play it safe.  Closing the lid, she grabs a towel that she had left on the bed just for this purpose and wipes the excess from her hands.  “Let me know when you are ready, York.”  She moves closer, positioning herself behind him to get a hand on his hip, fingers stroking over his hipbone. 

He tries to nod against the pillows, fumbling to fuck himself deeper on his fingers. The burn of arousal is setting in, flooding his body with endorphins and he can feel his cock leaking onto the sheets. 

“You're gonna have to do laundry later,” he manages, forehead pressed against the bed and breathing coming in hard. “F-f-fuck. I think-- I think I can take it. Go s-slow.”

“I would change the sheets right after we are finished, but we might be hard pressed to keep you from passing out in a puddle of your own come.”  Carolina inches closer, trying to get into position. “Spread your legs a little --there you go.”  One hand brushing down York’s back encouragingly, she checks to make sure anything she might need is close to hand. Satisfied that everything is ready, that York is ready, she holds the base of her cock and glides it down over his opening, just to check.  “You sure? You're ready?”

“I want you so goddamn _bad_ , Carolina,” he pleads, “just _fuck_ _me_ already.”

In response, Carolina reaches forward to get her fingers into his hair, dragging heavy along his scalp before she grips the back of his neck. He hand travels smoothly down the skin of his back, over muscle and bone, and her thumb brushes just above his ass before she settles her hand on his hip once again. “God, you are so beautiful.” She guides her cock to his opening and growls, “And you’re all mine.”

Back arched under her touch, there’s no pillow to muffle the high, keening wail he makes as Carolina enters him. “Aaaahh--! K-keep g-going, I promise, it’s--  _ ah _ !” His fingers dig into the sheets, eyes rolling back as he struggles to meet her halfway, nearly choking on his own pleasure already. She feels huge inside him, filling him up so completely his mind empties of any other thought. “So much, so good, so good, f- _ fuck _ \--”

Carolina pauses a moment, but only to reassure herself that he's fine and to savour the noises York is already making.  She lets go of her cock, and pulls back experimentally to judge how much give she has to work with, before pushing gently in the rest of the way.

Tension relaxing, York’s forehead drops back to the bed, his entire body shaking with each inhale as he adjusts to the feeling of Carolina inside him. He shifts under her, tiny little movements as lube starts to drip down the back of his thighs.

“Holy shit,” he repeats, “that’s a lot. God, Carolina, wish you c-could feel this too. How incredible you’re m-makin’ me feel already, just-- just with this. Fuck.” A little more shifting. “Okay. You-- you can move. I'm good.  _ Fuck _ .”

“Relax, York.” Her hand stroking his back again, Carolina lowers herself to lay a kiss between his shoulder blades, letting her breasts press against him before she straightens. “I've got you.” Both hands come down to cup his ass before on returns to his hip, and the other reaches up to snag a handful of his hair. She can't actually feel anything, but the low moan that escapes her lips is genuine as she starts to move.

If she makes any other sound, York is deaf to it, moaning loud enough the whole house could hear him as he moves against her, trying to find the perfect angle.

Just as much, however, he craves her hands on him.

“Touch me, touch me please, anywhere, I don't care, I just--” the rest of his words are drowned out as she thrusts inside him, harder than before, and his eyes roll back in his head. “Yes, god, please, like that, f-fuck me like that, I'm  _ begging _ you, please--”

Carolina maintains the force of her thrust, picking up speed carefully.  She splays one hand across his lower back, the other dropping to brace him as they rock against each other, each movement punctuated by York's moans and squeals.  “Maybe I should get Delta to make me a recording of you like this.  Then chain you to the bed and make you listen to it with me. I'd straddle you as you lay there and you'd feel how dripping wet you make me, and not be able to do a thing about it.  Just listen to yourself coming apart, begging, moaning like the bitch in heat that you are.”

Carolina bends on top of him, one arm snaking under him to hold him to her, the other bracing against the bed. “If you're going to moan like an animal, I'll fuck you like an animal.” Tightening her arm around him, she picks up speed.

As she presses him to her, she finds a new angle and hits his prostate; the shock of long-neglected nerves lighting up drives the breath out of him in a gasp. When she does it again he screams, a high pitched breathless noise.

“Yes,” he wails when he sucks air into his lungs, arching his back to give her better access to him, each word a shout as she plows into him, “yes yes yes yes yes yes--”

Leaning more of her weight into him, Carolina pushes York further down onto the bed. Her wordless murmured encouragement is at odds with her rough movements, with the force of her thrusts until she gets him how she wants him.  Then she lowers her mouth to his ear.

“Get loud for me York. Louder. Say my name. Show me how much you love this. Tell me you love me.  _ Say my name.” _

York obeys.

The compulsion to follow her orders, listen to her words over his own instincts, has been a part of him since the Project. Years of trust have hard-wired him to know her, to believe her above nearly all else, and it makes letting go of any last inhibitions as easy as breathing.

“Ca-- carolina--” his voice barely sounds his own as he chokes on her name, entire body jolting with the force of her thrusts. “Carolina, C-Carolina, oh fuck, Carolina--  _ aaaahh _ !” His throat feels raw from screaming but he can’t stop howling her name as she fucks him, no more than he could have stopped himself from coming, completely untouched. “Lina, Carolina, God, fuck, _ohhhh_ -!”

The rest of his words dissolves into inarticulate vowels as he sobs into the sheets, curling forward as his orgasm tears through him like chain lightning.

Carolina slows but doesn't stop. She fits her body against York as he moves, keeping their skin to skin contact.  “Good, good, yes York.”  It is only the firm knowledge that he likes this, that push into almost too much, that keeps her going.  She keeps rolling her hips, keeping her thrusts small but deep. “You're so good, so beautiful. Keep going - I want all of it and I'll keep at you until I get it.”

Her words are lost to him, but her tone is enough. York struggles to keep on his knees as she milks him absolutely dry. Slowly he sinks into the sheets, pushed lower with each thrust until his sobs have faded into hitching, gentle breaths.

She doesn’t pull out, but does manage to get her knees under her a little more, enough that she can still stay atop York without putting all her weight on him.  Keeping as still as she can from the waist down, Carolina kisses as much of his back and neck that she can reach. Her one arm that had been wrapped around York is pinned under him now, but she still manages to stroke her fingers along his stomach as she murmurs to him, gentle and affectionate.

“You okay, sweetheart?  Was that alright?”

He nods, too overwhelmed to properly speak. “So-- so good. As always.” York’s mind is in pieces, soft and fuzzy and disjointed from it all. It’s fantastic and satisfying and incredible and he loves her so much, but all of these things are nameless concept as he moans into the pillows again, shifting minutely. Even the tiniest movement sends thunderbolts of sensations up and down his spine. The slight sting of too much does nothing to deter him. York has always loved the things that could hurt him the most.

“Do you want me to pull out?” Fingers strum gently across York's stomach and Carolina deliberately presses her breasts more firmly against his back with her next kiss. “Or do you want me to keep going?”

York keens at the thought, reaching up with a fumbling hand to cup her cheek. “Can you? Just… a little more?

“Of course.”  Carolina’s lips part and her next kisses on York's back are messier.  “You want it like this? Or should we turn you over so you can see my face as I wreck you?” 

“Roll me over,” he blurts, no hesitation. “Pull-- pull out, but, slowly? I don’t… that’d be too much, to turn with it in.” The sound he makes as Carolina eases out is obscene and ends with him making fists in the sheets. 

When he lets go, Carolina gently rolls him over to a dry patch of the bed, drinking him in. He’s pliant and relaxed under her, breath evening out but skin bright red all the way down to his chest. His stomach is spattered with opalescent come, and there’s a pool of it in the sheets. As she meets his gaze, he manages to lick his lips.

“You do… good work as always, boss,” he says with a flash of an exhausted grin, draping one arm above his head to better show it off. His facade is paper thin, of course, and as much as he itches to say more his head is damn near spinning. York swallows, trying to moisten his dry throat. “... Water?”

There's a bottle of water on the night table and Carolina reaches carefully over York to get it, but then immediately gets up completely to help him into a sitting position so he can drink safely.  She sits next to him on the bed, one arm supporting around his back.  She swirls tiny circles onto the side of his ribs with her thumb but otherwise makes no move that might distract him while he is drinking.  

When he has had his fill, York caps the bottle with shaking hands and Carolina drops it over the edge of the bed so she can lower him back down.  As soon as he is settled, she leans over him, for a kiss that starts sweet, then matures into something warmer. 

“You think I did good work? Perhaps I did.”  The next kiss lingers even longer and ends with his bottom lip held between her teeth.  “This is only my first time. Imagine how good I might get with practice.”

“Sweet god in heaven,” he breathes, staring up at her with raw hunger and adoration. “How the fuck did I get so lucky to have  _ you _ ?”

That makes Carolina grin even wider.  “I think I need something too.” She shifts, enough to drag a finger through the spots of come on his skin, then sucks it off her finger inches from his face.  “Thats better.”

She laughs, makes a show of flipping her hair around before reaching for the lube.  Reapplication is done slowly, as she keeps looking up to watch him watch her. Once satisfied she is prepared for a second go, she gives him another smile.  “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes drinking her in, marveling at the lengths she’s going for this; how much she’s willing to indulge him. And this time, he lets her set the pace, ease her cock in with no coaching, and lets out a soft moan as she breaches him anew. “Shit, that’s good.  _ God _ . Slow, okay? Wanna… I wanna see how much I can take.”

“I can do that. Just tell me if you need to stop.”  Carolina spreads his legs a bit wider, pushing them back towards his chest as she thrusts slowly deeper, centimeters at a time.  She keeps a steady rhythm, her eyes soft and tender and locked on his.  She doesn’t look away until York closes his eyes, pressing his head back into the pillow with a low long moan. She shifts forward, hands just above his shoulders, bracing herself as she pauses, leans down to kiss him.  

This he knows how to do. York eases his arms over her shoulders, resting his hands on her back, holding her close even as he breaks the kiss to moan as she starts to settle into a rhythm. Slow and deep, he goes limp against the pillows, helpless to do much of anything except babble praise.

“Yes, yes, Carolina, so-- so fucking good, feelin’ you fuck me like this-- so much, it’s hard to-- can’t think just feeling you, all of you, all over me, inside me like you’re in my goddamn  _ blood _ \--” 

His hands slide to her neck, cupping the back of her head, unwilling to break this point of skin to skin contact. She finds his prostate and he squeals under her, his hardening cock twitching at the jolt of pleasure.

“Good, good, good,” York promises her, clinging to coherency and her with trembling fingertips. “Go, go, good, so good, Carolina, Carolina, Carolina--”

She slows her pace only to move his legs, pushing them up over her shoulders, and her next thrust takes her nearly flush with him. 

“I love watching you fall apart, York.”  This deep she holds back on her hardest thrusts, but stays inside, picks up her pace again. “I love watching you lose your mind and go to pieces.  I love seeing your smart mouth stumble for words, I love when everything I do to you eclipses your sanity and I get to hold you and watch you and see you come undone, until you fall to pieces and every piece of you is mine.” 

She’s fucking him senseless and all he can do is lay there and drink it in, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open, unable to form words at all and just mewling with each thrust.  Any praise he could make is lost in a chorus of vowels.

He’s distantly worried he’s not going to be able to come again, not after so many rounds in one day, and his mind skips ahead to other, wildly different circumstances.

“Keep-- keep going-- gotta--” he’s crying out now, each sound louder and deeper, eyes getting glassy from the emotional weight of it all. “Gotta practice for when it’s me-- me fucking you-- gotta work up to fucking you for days-- oh god, oh,  _ oh-- _ ” and the mere concept makes his toes curl, wrings the words out of him as he fights to pull her closer, somehow.

“I know you will." With her arms holding up York's legs, she can't reach forward to kiss him the way she wants, so she kisses the inside of his knee instead. “You already promised.  You are going to fill me with so much come that there’s no way I can't get pregnant.  You'll work so hard, empty yourself into me, and a part of you and a part of me will come together and never come apart again. You'll do it.”  Carolina grins down at him and whispers, “And I'm going to love every moment.”

It shouldn’t be enough - not so soon, not when he’s still recovering from the last one that was minutes ago. But it is. Of course it is, because it’s Carolina. York gasps, chokes on her name, throws his head back against the sheets and lets out a long stream of desperate noises loud enough to echo in the bedroom. There’s so little come left in his body that he barely feels his ejaculation, but the sensations are enough to completely overwhelm him, and as he shakes he manages to form those inarticulate sounds into her name, over and over, like a prayer.

Carolina drops York's legs and surges up to kiss him. She keeps up her movements a little while longer, but as he starts to quiet she abandons that as well.  One hand she slips under his neck to cup over his A.I. port, the other searches out his own hand, and blindly threads their fingers together. Even as his kisses slow and his breathing evens out, she keeps going, over his mouth, face and neck. 

“I love you.” Carolina is breathless in her affection, nuzzling her nose against his.  “We will get there. I will give you that. We are gonna make it work, York. I promise.” 

“I know,” he croaks, the words slow and with great effort.

There’s so much more he wants to say with that, to say at all - but all he can offer is an exhausted smile as he mirrors her, unsteady fingers tangling in her sweaty hair. All he can offer are two more words.

“It’s  _ us _ .” 

Carolina smiles, gives him one last kiss. “I’m going to pull out now, then you can sleep it off, okay? You ready?”

He nods and can’t help the face he makes as she eases out, the groan of disgust at the excess lube saturating his skin. No sooner has she pulled out the top his legs hook behind her thighs, inhibiting her escape. Or as much as they can when they feel like they’re made of jelly and only take suggestions from his mind, not orders.

Carolina stops, doesn't try to pull away, despite his weak grip on her.  “If you let me go get rid of this,” she reasons, stroking a finger down his cheek, “I can come back and snuggle with you properly.”

“Just… take it off and toss it. For later. I want you now,” he pleads, too far gone to feel guilty or self-conscious for being so desperate.

Everything in Carolina’s world goes soft. “Okay then. But you gotta let me sit up at least-- there’s buckles.”  When he doesn't protest, Carolina pushes herself back, fumbling with the blacks straps and tiny silver buckles that seem to warp through each other to her tired eyes.  It takes a minute or two of patient fumbling work, but it does come off in the end.  She tosses it over the side of the bed, but as she looks back at York, another problem catches her eye.  

“Ah, dammit.  Sorry York, I gotta get up after all.  I don't think either of is wants to sleep in a puddle of come.  Let me just sort this out and I'll snuggle you into oblivion. Okay?”

He does not whimper. Absolutely not. He just sighs, very heavily, and if it's a little voiced then that's fine and normal all things considered. York drops his legs to the bed and watches her work, the very definition of wistful.

It’s hard, so damn hard to step away from the bed, not with York’s eyes trying to draw her back in, and the sad way his hand twitches as though fighting the urge to reach out for her.  But this brief break has another benefit for her - a chance to cool off and rein herself in.  Carolina isn't used to getting wound up and not finishing but this is about York tonight.  She's happy to see him so relaxed, and isn't going to go anything to break the mood.  So once she has things settled to her satisfaction, a hand towel laid over the still slightly damp spot on the bed, she crawls back over the bed to York, pulling him close with more affection than arousal as she kisses the side of his neck.  “There.  That wasn't so bad was It?”

“I  _ missed _ you,” he insists, though he’s smiling as he says it, more than content to pull her down on top of him. York is way, way too tired to follow up on any promises his mouth might make, but he can’t help gently nipping her ear once.

Carolina shivers at the touch of his teeth, but manages not to sigh regretfully. This is for him, not her, and she loves that.  She loves him.  “Turn on your side - I'll spoon you tonight.”

“More kisses first.” York holds her face in both hands and pours every last bit of his satisfaction, his gratitude, and his love into the gesture to make up for lacking the words tonight. It takes enough out of him afterward that he melts into the mattress, completely content.

“Love you,” he coos.

“I love you too.”  It's clear he's too tired to even turn over, so Carolina lowers herself carefully next to him. She snuggles close under his arm, draping her own across his waist, embracing him tighter to draw them as close as possible before relaxing with a slow deep breath. “Rest up. You can sleep all day tomorrow if you need, as much as you want.  I'll bring you breakfast in bed and everything. You get the full treatment.”

He hums happily, tilting his head to lean against hers.

“You spoil me, ‘Lina--” his words are broken in the middle with a yawn. “Lina bean.”

“Mmm. Shhh. Go to sleep, York.  I'm right here. I've got you.”  One last kiss against his chest. “Sweet dreams.”

Her words are the last he hears, and they'll be the first he hears in the morning; and every morning after that, for years and years.

No dream could be sweeter than that.


End file.
